


5 to 1

by Beldam



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Closet Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, bottom!Zen, reverse au, robo dick, robo vag, top!gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 04:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beldam/pseuds/Beldam
Summary: Zenyatta challenges Genji to a game. He does not expect to be beaten, but he is nothing if not a graceful loser.





	5 to 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically dedicated to Naopao, who essentially described the main beats of this fic after which point I ground my teeth for a bit before determining that this needed to exist. Thanks for sending me to hell, dude, I can always count on you.
> 
>  [ Now has a Chinese translation!](https://weibo.com/2468015915/GbSNvf212?from=page_1005052468015915_profile&wvr=6&mod=weibotime&type=repost#_rnd1523718394654) Thank you so much to x1108s on tumblr for this, it's one of the coolest things someone has ever done with one of my fics haha.  
> (If the link doesn't work immediately, go to any post on the website's homepage, and then go and try the link again. That should fix it)
> 
> [This fic concerns versions of the characters from the reverse au.](http://reversewatch.tumblr.com)

Genji comes over to Zenyatta’s hotel to play shogi. It’s been a ritual of theirs for ages now, started well before they ever touched each other--before they ever even _liked_ each other, insofar as they like each other now.

Genji’s not bad at shogi, but he’s not a grandmaster, and he’s certainly no machine. So the game ends as it so often does--with Genji losing, and Zenyatta bending him over the table to take his prize. Not that Genji objects. In fact, lately Zenyatta’s been complaining that Genji’s been losing a little _too_ easily, and who could blame him when being beaten comes with perks.

Genji’s recovering from his latest loss, naked and aching and catching his breath on the carpet, when he feels the cold prick of the omnic’s fingers gliding down his back.

Genji’s on his stomach, facing away. At the contact, he turns his head slightly, but otherwise doesn’t move. The omnic is right next to him. He’s lounging on his side, propping himself up on one elbow while he rests his chin in his hand. Genji’s spend dapples his chest and torso. Though his equipment is hidden back behind his modesty panel, there’s nothing to be done for the teal lube smeared across his inner thighs, narrow lines of it streaking all the way down to his knees. Oddly shaped nicks and indents catch the light along the spokes in his neck (lately, he’s been letting Genji bite--but only when he’s good). Any other person looking like that, lounging on the floor smelling of sex and radiating self-satisfaction, they’d seem positively debauched.

Not Zenyatta. Even now, he appears nothing less than sanctified.

It’d be irritating to Genji, if it was anyone else. If Zenyatta didn’t have him--hook, line, and sinker.

“What’s up, Zen...?” Genji murmurs, voice quiet and parched. Zenyatta rarely touches him after sex. Not unless it’s been a rough evening for one of them--or more commonly, he has something on his mind.

The gentlest of hums in response, melding perfectly with the ambient purr of the AC.

“Do you think about it at all?” Zenyatta says after a minute or two.

Genji blinks slowly, wondering if he blacked out through the first part of this conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Think about what?”

There are Zenyatta’s fingers--moving up and down, up and down. He brings down his palm, begins massaging gently between Genji’s shoulderblades. “Being inside me.”

Genji’s heart leaps sideways--there’s no way Zenyatta didn’t feel it, it practically hopped out of Genji and into his open hand. He shifts his head so he’s looking directly ahead of him and decides to focus his attention on one of the shogi tiles scattered on the floor.  

“Of course I think about it,” he mutters into his forearm.

“Oh?” Pure amusement. He feels Zenyatta shift slightly, pull incrementally closer. “You have never asked for it.”

“You’d just use it as an opportunity to fuck with me.” Zenyatta’s hand starts to move lower, following the arch of Genji’s spine. Genji grits his teeth and starts going over defensive shogi formations in his head. “Like you’re doing right now.”

Zenyatta sounds downright tickled as he chides, “Oh, my starling, _hush_. My character is better than you give it credit for.”

“That is definitely _not_ true.”

A delighted little titter. It’s amazing that there’s anyone on Earth capable of being so happy with how unrepentantly awful they are. “I suppose I _can_ be rather hard on you, can’t I, Genji?” Zenyatta sighs in mock contrition. “Then, perhaps a show of good faith is in order.” Zenyatta’s hand lifts from Genji’s back. The ninja doesn’t get an opportunity to miss it. A second later, there’s a firm pressure on his ribs, and then he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling--and at Zenyatta looking down at him, the lights above making a bright corona around his head.

“Genji.” The omnic shifts, knee touching Genji’s thigh before sliding over it. “Just so we are clear: you desire to...now what is the proper terminology...ah, of course. You desire to ‘top’ me.” He’s straddling Genji now, thighs parted invitingly over his pelvis. “Yes, or no?”

Genji knows Zenyatta well enough to realize that he’s walking right into some kind of trap--but the problem is, Zenyatta knows him just as well. Knows exactly the bait to make Genji risk it. Genji lets his eyes glide down Zenyatta’s trim figure, all the secret pleasures it conceals. “Yes.”

The omnic nods, as if he is very proud of Genji for his ‘correct’ answer. His modesty panel is still up, so it shouldn’t have the impact that it does but--without any sort of warning, he starts gyrating his hips, the smooth curve of his pelvis grinding gently against Genji.

“Alright,” he says, calm as you please, in contrast to Genji, who is about a quarter mile out of his skin by now. “Then I will give you the opportunity to do so. Of course, you would have to earn it. Nothing in this world is freely given, after all.” Zenyatta alights his palms on Genji’s chest, running them up and down his tattoo like it has a texture--as if he’s satisfying his own curiosity instead of deliberately driving Genji wild. “So, I suggest a wager.”

“A wager…?” Genji repeats, more than a little dazedly.

“Indeed. I would not want to put you at too severe of a disadvantage, so we will make the basis something you are good at. In fact, I know the perfect thing.” The omnic’s fingers start to make slow circles around Genji’s nipples before giving each of them a gentle squeeze. “You are fond of sneaking about, aren’t you? So the rules are these: from tomorrow on, you are free to ‘attack’ me at any point over the course of a given day. If you manage to incapacitate me, then we shall proceed precisely as you desire. _However_ you desire. But if you fail, and I incapacitate you instead…” A low, mean laugh escapes him. “Well, we both know what will happen then, don’t we, Genji?”

“Zen--”

The omnic gives him a soft slap that leaves him panting. “Do not interrupt me while I’m speaking. Now, to avoid foul play, I will add a few stipulations.” Zenyatta touches a finger to Genji’s mouth, and Genji parts his lips to let it in. “You will not attack me in the company of others, or where others might catch sight of our little game.” Another finger presses into Genji’s hungry mouth. “You will not attack me when I am recharging or otherwise rendered previously unable to fight back. You will not use any implements on me other than your bare hands. And lastly--” There are four fingers in Genji’s mouth now, moving independently of each other, stretching his lips and jaw and making him work to lavish each and every one “--you will not, under any circumstances, use your dragon.”

The fingers withdraw from Genji’s mouth with a pop just as he starts to gasp out a strangled protest. “But you’re--”

“Those are the rules, Genji.” He reclines his head imperiously, forehead lights strobing in sequence. “If you do not wish to follow them, you do not have to play. Simple as that.”

For something that’s supposed to be more or less ‘fair,’ the rules put Genji at a severe disadvantage. Even so, it sounds too good to be true--or at least it does right now, while Genji’s thoughts are addled by the omnic’s languid ministrations (which, later, he will realize was probably the point.)

Genji swallows, still tasting Zenyatta (and himself, what was left of him beneath the omnic’s claws) and lifts his hands to gingerly rest them on Zenyatta’s hips. Dizzyingly, Zenyatta lets him--lets him still the slow grinding, pull him up further along his groin, offering no resistance. Lets him have the barest taste of what it would be like if he could make Zenyatta yield.

Breathing loudly now, Genji imagines those perfect, teal-streaked thighs squeezing around his hips. Zenyatta’s legs up and open and Genji moving between them, filling that immaculate body with his heat.

He works his jaw until he can put together a coherent sentence. “What would you say my chances are of beating you?”

“Bad,” Zenyatta says frankly. His voice lilts upwards--smug. Full of laughter. “But bad chances are still chances, wouldn’t you agree, dear sparrow?”

Well, there’s no arguing that logic: he agrees.

Of course, he realizes that Zenyatta’s just using this as a means to amuse himself. Beating Genji at shogi’s no fun anymore, so he’s come up with an even better game. And winning without a fight is no good either, so now he’s added stakes, given Genji a reason to really work for it, something to dangle in front of his nose while he grinds him into the pavement.

Fucking bastard.

Genji wants him so goddamn bad.

\--

Of course, no amount of desire changes the raw difference in their physical strength. Zenyatta isn’t wrong: Genji’s good at sneaking. But without the advantage of weapons or his dragon, surprising Zenyatta is about all he can manage before he’s flipped handily on his ass and taken more or less where he lands.

Studying is in order, he realizes. Between ‘attacks’ he starts paying more attention to how the omnics in his employ move--how their motions differ from humans, the way they balance their strength and weight, compensate for the relatively limited range of their joints. None of them have Zenyatta’s fluidity or his skill, but at their very foundation, they’re the same. He practices with them more, let's them throw him around a little (though to their credit, he can't coax them into going all out, unlike a certain omnic monk.) He hoards every bit of new information, adding on and perfecting his counters with every practice session.

It doesn’t seem like all his hard work is paying off at first--but on their sixth go around, it happens.

Zenyatta’s attending a gala at a ritzy hotel in the city, and since said hotel is primarily Shimada-owned, it’s easy for Genji to arrange for some poor cocktail waiter to trip into him at a specific point during the night, spilling champagne all over Zenyatta’s immaculate robe. Zenyatta’s magnanimous about it (as he is about everything, when it suits him) but excuses himself to clean up in the bathroom.

He moves through a vacant hallway, passes by a janitor’s closet--and that’s when Genji gets him, bursting out, dragging him in, and shutting the door behind them with barely a sound. Genji doesn’t have a lot of time to make this work, even less because Zenyatta’s not taken totally off guard this time, the waiter thing maybe a little too obvious a ploy.

But it’s fine. Genji knows what he’s doing, going over it all in his head as he acts: disrupt Zenyatta’s processes, disorient him with brute force and then go for his mechanics, momentarily interrupting the flow of hydraulic pressure and omnic energy to drop Zenyatta alongside his suddenly inert orbs. Landing hard hits on joints, making precise movements along wires, taking a few nasty hits himself as Zenyatta tries to get his bearings and can’t.

He’s broken men’s necks with less effort than it takes to keep Zenyatta pinned, but for all his struggling Zenyatta can’t shake him. It takes minutes of vicious grappling (feels like hours. decades) before Zenyatta finally goes still in the trashed room, fans whirring loudly, Genji panting and sweating on top of him, holding Zenyatta with his chest flat against the floor. Neither of them speak as they pull themselves together, Genji trembling, stunned, still not entirely caught up with what’s just happened.

But then it hits him like he’s fallen out onto the motorway, and he goes from shaking from exertion to unbridled exhilaration.  

He got him.

Genji got him. Zenyatta’s there and he has him and he’s _his_.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning over him, kissing his nape and back, running his hands over metal and matte white chrome, over his clothes then under, panting and gasping and grinning.

“Oh, Zen. I thought you said my chances were bad, but one out of six?” He tweaks a wire in Zenyatta’s neck with his teeth, grinning giddily when the omnic shudders. “I’d have to close down my pachinko parlours if all my patrons gambled on those odds. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you lost on purpose.” In a low purr: “If you were that eager to feel my cock inside you, why didn’t you just say so? I’d have given it to you at any time, baby.”

The ‘baby’ is pushing his luck, Christ, the whole thing is, he knows it, and he knows he’s gonna regret it later, but he can’t honestly bring himself to give a damn.

To his surprise, without prompting, Zenyatta arches against him, grinding back against Genji’s rapidly hardening dick, eliciting a guttural moan in response. Zenyatta gives a quiet titter at that, full of mirth, before shifting so that he is on his back. The movement disturbs Zenyatta’s kasaya, causes the scent of champagne (still not dried on his clothes) to waft upwards from his body, luxurious and heady in the small space. The damp fabric on his torso clings to his chassis, and his chest has a faint, sticky shine under the throbbing light of his array. It takes all of Genji’s will power not to drop to all fours to lick Zenyatta clean, to suck the alcohol out of his clothes, to lavish that body that’s already so accustomed to worship. He has to hand it to Zenyatta, he’s got him well-trained.

“Sweet turtledove, pride goeth before a fall,” Zenyatta murmurs, voice strangely resonant in the small space. “But, a loss is a loss, and I am an omnic of my word.” He reaches up, lets his fingertips prick along Genji’s neck and down his collarbones; tips his head to the side in salacious invitation. “How would you have me, _Shimada-sama?_ ”

Genji swallows tightly, heat burning at his ears before surging into his groin. Zenyatta’s just screwing with him, he knows. Keeping Genji deliberately off-kilter--sacrificing his physical position but not yielding an ounce of his power, almost saying, _Even now, you are doing precisely as I please_. Playing Genji like a fiddle, as always.

But there’s no protests, no claims that Genji had somehow broken the rules. He might be yielding in the most backwards way possible, but he _is_ yielding, letting Genji move forward as he pleases. However he desires.

_How would you have me?_

God, where does he even _begin?_ Genji rears back and throws off a cocksure smile that belies the fact his insides feel like molten goop, thoughts a tumult of anticipation and possibility.

“I’d hate to spoil the surprise,” he whispers, voice deliberately low to hide the fact it’s shaking. He rests trembling hands on Zenyatta’s parted knees, moving them further open before slowly hiking the hem of his kasaya up around his waist, exposing his smooth pelvic chassis. _Stop drooling, idiot,_ he berates himself when his mouth wells with saliva at the sight. He rests his hands against it, rubbing firmly against the nearly invisible seams of the panel that hides Zenyatta’s most delicate parts. “Let me see.”

With a soft noise, Zenyatta obliges. The panel pulls up and away, exposing him fully, segmented cock extending from his body fully hard--and beneath it, dripping between his thighs, is that perfect, pretty hole, lit faintly from within with the same blue as Zenyatta’s array. Genji’s own painfully hard dick twitches hungrily at the sight, precum generously dampening the front of his pants.

Genji gives Zenyatta’s cock a soft squeeze, making Zenyatta’s hips roll encouragingly into his fist, and then glides his fingers down to the main course.

“What a beautiful little pussy,” he breathes, massaging the folds, slicking his fingers up against it. “God, look at you. You’re _soaked._ We’ve barely started and you already want it that bad? Patience, baby. You’re gonna be riding me all night long. We can afford to take it slow.”

He shudders deeply when Zenyatta’s hand falls over his, guiding his motions.

“Oh, my sparrow, whatever you please--but are you sure you can manage? You are shaking like a leaf. And your skin is so hot,” he says, teasing but still breathless. “Feeling a bit feverish, perhaps? Maybe you ought to lie down a bit, at least until you get your bearings.”

Genji grins wide; the more Zenyatta talks, the more he’s gonna enjoy making him eat his words.

“If you’re so worried, I’m happy to kick it into high gear.” He sheds his shirts, yanks his pants down to his knees. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your evening on account of my meager human stamina suddenly giving out.”

He takes the omnic by his thighs and drags his lower body into his lap. The heat of Zenyatta’s pussy so close to him makes his dick throb, rolling his hips against Zenyatta experimentally to lube himself up. Zenyatta reaches around and to grope his ass, pulling him tighter against him, the smooth, sensual movements of his own pelvis finding rhythm with Genji’s.

“Oh, Zen,” the ninja pants, salivating again, shameless this time. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll be begging for my cock every night from here on out. Gonna make you cum till your fucking battery runs out, till you're nothing but a trembling wreck beneath me.”

Zenyatta’s hand on Genji’s ass moves inward, sliding along its curve. “Promises, promises,” he purrs, before pushing a single finger inside Genji’s hole.

Genji jerks, flushing, startled--and without any preamble whatsoever, comes against Zenyatta’s pelvis.

Neither of them speak, Genji just kneeling there, red and panting, while Zenyatta stares at the spend that stickies his chassis, processors whirring loudly in the dark.

It’s Zenyatta who breaks the silence first.

To _laugh._

“Oh, my _dear_ Genji,” he snickers, hand over the seam of his mouth as if he gives two damns about stifling the sound. “Finished already, sweet lark? Perhaps you should have been less worried about my battery and more worried about--”

Genji doesn’t let him finish. With a surge of strength borrowed from his dragon, he hoists Zenyatta onto his shoulders so his calves rest on his back, and then, holding him tightly by the hips to keep him upright, Genji stands, slams Zenyatta against the shelving unit, and buries his face between his thighs.

Zenyatta’s bucks into his mouth, synth pitching with surprise and pleasure, and Genji can hear his claws scrabbling at the shelves, knocking things over onto the floor as he struggles desperately for purchase.

Genji wonders if tapping into his dragon right now was a mistake--he can already feel its will fogging his brain, its alien desires merging with his human lust, twisting Genji’s need for Zenyatta with its own inhuman designs. He tries to push it back down but it enforces its right to him as its vessel, sharpening his teeth and nails and filling his body with an ungodly heat.

Genji’s pulls back to catch his breath, fingers replacing his lips and tongue, and a low thrill runs through him when he looks up at an omnic that is disheveled in a way he rarely gets to see him, his carriage unsteady, the front of his kasaya open and falling around his elbows, exposing his chest and shoulders like a ravished courtesan.

Zenyatta takes hold of the back of Genji’s head, pushing and pulling on his hair, trying to coax his mouth back between his legs. “How gratifying to see--that the fight is not out of you yet, Genji,” he says, voice popping, full of static.

“‘Genji’?” the ninja echoes in a low rumble, fingers scissoring into that tight hole while he kisses and suckles on the underside of Zenyatta’s cock between sentences. “What happened to ‘Shimada-sama’?”

“I have no--no recollection of having called you that even once in my entire life.”

“Oh?” Genji swipes his tongue against Zenyatta’s clit and the omnic throws his head back, barely smothering a desperate moan. “That jog your memory?”

“No,” Zenyatta says, awfully defiant for someone who is hanging onto their control by a mere thread. “Perhaps--perhaps you ought to switch tactics.”

Genji chuckles, pressing his lips back against Zenyatta as he does so he can feel it. “Whatever you say, beautiful.”

He lowers Zenyatta’s feet back to the floor and then flips him round so he’s facing the wall, dragging them both down to their knees. The omnic feels jittery beneath his palms as he forces the kasaya’s hem back up and pulls his hips back, making Zenyatta’s back arch as he rests his chest and forehead against the shelves. Figures; he’s not used to being manhandled, least of all by a human who is weaker than him 90 percent of the time.

Zenyatta quivers as Genji wriggles a finger into him, then two, then three, just as much getting himself accustomed to that tight, wet heat as he is getting Zenyatta ready for the stretch and pressure of being entered and taken.

Genji’s already hard again, painfully so, his cock aching to deliver on every lewd promise he’s made tonight. He withdraws his hand from the monk, slicks himself with two quick pumps, licks what’s left off his fingers.

“Open your legs more,” he growls against Zenyatta’s nape, teeth plucking dangerously at delicate wires. “ _More_ ,” he demands when the omnic obliges but not enough, not nearly enough when Genji needs more more more more _more_ . He swallows tightly when Zenyatta has all but lowered himself directly onto Genji’s cock, the hot, red tip threatening to breach him every time Genji breathes. “That’s it. Perfect...” he murmurs, pressing the length of his body against Zenyatta’s. He takes hold of himself and begins to guide himself inside--and Zenyatta whimpers, actually _whimpers_ , and he takes him, and takes him and takes him, down to the very last throbbing inch.

And he's perfect (of course he is, of _course_ he is), so hot and wet, squeezing around Genji with intense, tangible need, making him hiss and snarl as he tries desperately to stay in control. All Genji's lurid daydreams--his nights alone bucking feverishly into his own hand while fantasizing about Zenyatta's pliant body, splayed ready and willing beneath him--none of it compares to the real thing, to the squelch and drag of Zenyatta's passage around his length, the omnic's airy, involuntary noises, his trembling frame. It is too much, Genji thinks for an instant--and then:  _not enough not enough not enough._

Genji keeps his first thrusts shallow, easing them both into it, defying his dragon’s sweltering need to ravage and to claim. He's still a mass of wires, volatile and electric, liable to go up in flames at the first stray spark, and even going slow, the omnic is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, insides textured and tight in a way that defies description. He can afford to let himself loose--even if he comes again, with the dragon’s stamina on his side he’d only need a minute at most to be ready again--but who knows when he’ll get another chance like this. He wants to do it right.

“How’s that?” he asks roughly. “You like it, right?”

Zenyatta's back bows and he clutches at a shelf above his head. He’s struggling to keep it together, and Genji can’t blame him. The omnic’s told him how the presence of the dragon feels for him, the way its electricity reacts with his, sending his whole body prickling. He cannot fathom how it feels coming from _inside_ him, that beast surging and coiling against his most intimate parts, a being of pure want that will gladly take whatever isn’t nailed down.

“I--I do not--”

“You don’t know?” Genji whispers. His hips pull back all the way, momentarily pause, then push forward in one swift stroke, cock bottoming out with an obscene noise. Beneath him, Zenyatta twists, arches, lets slip an involuntary sound of pleasure that seems unfathomable to Genji. “How about now?” Genji says, a smug smile in his voice, repeating the action, making Zenyatta buck and squirm. When Genji withdraws, the omnic’s jittery and steaming, small, hungry little chirps coming free of his synth against his will. He’s a fucking mess, Genji thinks, grinning, head spinning. A mess--and Genji’s the one who made him that way.

“I--like it,” Zenyatta concedes in a broken, hiccuping moan, and victory pulses in Genji’s veins, that lone admission of more value than anything that Zenyatta has ever deigned to give him.

“Mmm. I like it too. You feel so good, Zen. Your hole’s so tight, so hungry for me--makes me really want to give it to you, make you take me over and over again.” Genji pulls back a third time. He rears up, digs his nails into Zenyatta’s chassis and then angles his head around so he can get at one of the spokes of Zenyatta’s neck, and he _bites_. “What about you? You want more?”

“Ye-es.”

Genji circles his hips, smearing precum around Zenyatta’s entrance, holding the omnic firmly in place when he tries to push those dripping folds back onto him. “Tell me.”

“I--” Zenyatta reaches back to tangle his hand in the ninja’s hair, guiding the path of his mouth against his neck before giving it a mean yank. “I want more-- _brat_.”

Genji gives three deep thrusts that have Zenyatta all but convulsing beneath him.

“Try again,” Genji rumbles against the side of his head, snaking a hand around to clasp beneath the omnic’s jaw. “Say it nice or I’ll leave you like this. Send you back to your followers dripping and trembling and aching for me. If you don’t want that then tell me what you _do_ want. Tell me, or I’ll never let you have it.”

Zenyatta whimpers. He tries to move, one way then the other, but Genji’s stronger, holds him in place, keeps him pinned between his sweltering body and the creaking shelves. The monk shudders, suddenly so very helpless in Genji’s grasp, that facade of perfect control shattered around him. “Shimada-sama…p-please,” he relents in a heady whine. “I want you to fuck me.”

The ninja grabs him by the shoulders and tosses him to the floor. He’s had no time to collect himself before Genji’s on top of him, forcing his legs apart to slip between them. Genji looks at Zenyatta’s weeping cock, his slicked up thighs--feels the urgent press of knees against his ribs, jabbing him like spurs do a horse, urging him on, and a sound like a low roar escapes him as he stuffs himself inside and does just as Zenyatta asked.

“That’s right,” he huffs, the dragon snarling behind his words, roiling inside him with every brutal snap of his hips. “That’s right. Because you’re mine. No one else’s. Mine. _Say it.”_

“Y-yours,” Zenyatta gets out, clawing at Genji’s back, hips rocking as he's jerked along the floor.

“ _Again._ ”

“I’m yours, Genji. Yours, all yours, all…!” His voice crackles and breaks, and Genji can feel his passage starting to convulse around him. “Genji--oh, Genji, I’m--”

“You close?” the ninja heaves, picking up the pace. “Me too. I’m right there--gonna pump you so _deep,_ Zen, fill that perfect pussy to the brim.”

A small, staccato noise escapes Zenyatta--the barest huff of amusement. “S-second time’s the charm, hm?”

Genji pins Zenyatta’s hands above his head and fucks into him so hard he positively _keens_.

They finish within seconds of each other, Zenyatta’s synth cutting out half way through, Genji making enough noise for both of them, hips working furiously as he empties himself out into Zenyatta’s hot, convulsing body.

The omnic’s hands, which had clutched helplessly onto Genji’s during the thick of it, fall open, the rest of him sagging against the floor, loose and pliant in the aftermath.

“Genji…” His voice isn’t back all the way. It warbles and stutters as he tries and fails to talk. “That...that was--”

“That ‘was’? What do you mean, it ‘was’?” Genji’s smile shows all his teeth as he grabs Zenyatta and rolls onto his back, pulling the omnic on top of him. His dragon arches beneath his tattoo, sending green light rippling along his skin. “I already told you, baby: you’re gonna be riding me all night long.”

\--------

It’s impossible to know how much time’s passed by the time Genji’s dragon finally releases its hold on him, letting him fall to the side, mercifully sated. He’s gonna be feeling it later, he knows--his limits are very human and very real, and he barrelled through his hard limit around three hours ago.

“Now,” he huffs as he turns to his lover, chest heaving, limbs jittery with the sudden cold and weakness of his mortal frame, “how was _that_?”

Zenyatta is quiet beside him, save for the noisy putter of his fan. He’s been completely divested of his kasaya, which is ruined beyond all hopes of saving, and his body is absolutely covered in Genji, cum leaking out of his well-used hole and streaking his chest and face. His array is strangely dim after a night of blinding intensity.  

Genji frowns and pulls close when he doesn’t get an immediate response. “What’s wrong?”

Very softly, not like a whisper but like his volume’s been set to ‘low,’ Zenyatta responds, “I cannot move.”

The ninja furrows his eyebrows and gives an incredulous smile. “Don’t tell me your battery actually ran out.” When he gets no response, the smile abruptly disappears. “You’re shitting me.”

“Please find an outlet or else I will expire on this floor, Genji.”

Genji scrambles to his feet and starts searching blindly along the walls for someplace for Zenyatta to plug in (forgetting completely that omnics go into indefinite standby when their battery is depleted, and do not actually die) but after about three minutes of desperate fumbling, he discovers an outlet near the door. It’s a lot more effort now that he’s relying only on his badly weakened self to do it, but he manages to drag Zenyatta to the shelves and prop him upright against them, fishing his charging cable out from behind the panel in his back and plugging him in.

With a relieved sigh, he collapses against the opposite wall, watching as the dots of the monk’s array begin to throb in time, indicating that he’s successfully receiving power.

After a bit, Genji sheepishly mutters, “Sorry.”

“Somehow I do not think that you are, but your apology is accepted regardless.” He’s still quiet, but he sounds a little better now. His head tips down with a strange, unnatural slowness as he looks at himself. Genji beats back the self-satisfied grin that threatens to overtake his face when Zenyatta looks back up at him, utterly withering even without the benefit of facial expressions. Longsufferingly: “I cannot leave like this.”

“I’ll have my men bring a change of clothes and some hot water once you’re fully charged. No one will be the wiser.”

Zenyatta seems to accept this answer with a thoughtful, “Hm.”

The omnic’s fan starts to wind down. Genji’s breathing steadies. It takes a few hours for omnics to charge after being completely wiped out. They’ll be there for a while, Genji reasons, crawling over to flop at Zenyatta’s side. Might as well get comfortable.

“That was good, though, right?” he asks finally, staring into the darkness that enshrouds the wrecked room. “You enjoyed it?”

Zenyatta’s head touches the top of his. Voice lilting upwards, affectionate, “You are not as inept as I might have hoped.”

Genji chuckles. “Such high praise--I’m honored.”

The omnic’s hand starts to creep sideways. Genji hurries it along, taking it in his and placing it at its final destination on his thigh. He feels the barest squeeze against his skin, so soft he can’t be sure it’s actually happened.

“Tomorrow evening,” Zenyatta says, voice low but not because of fatigue, “come to my hotel for shogi. There is something I would like to give you when you lose.”

“You mean ‘if’.”

Zenyatta scoffs openly. “You think you will win?”

“Eventually? Sure.” Genji shrugs. He leans over, and gives the omnic a cheeky kiss. “I kind of like my odds.”


End file.
